


Keep Us Warm

by seratonation



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Autumn, Barbershop Quartet, F/M, Inspired by Music, M/M, Magic, Misunderstandings, Multi, Seasons, Spirits, Spring, Summer, Wings, Winter, winter is coming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-06
Updated: 2014-12-06
Packaged: 2018-02-28 09:04:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2726621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seratonation/pseuds/seratonation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The quartet are the season spirits of the forest. Steve goes to visit Sam and Natasha. A misunderstanding leads to an early winter, and more destruction than any of them are prepared for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keep Us Warm

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the song [Winter is coming](http://yourethehellisbucky.tumblr.com/post/104481405243/winter-is-coming-radical-face) and [this picture](http://jeremyfall.tumblr.com/post/6380395361).

Sam was in the garden, raking leaves when he realised he wasn’t alone. He stopped, slowly turned around and then leaned on his rake. 

“Mister Summer,” he said, smiling warmly at Steve, “what are you doing in this neck of the woods.”

“I didn’t like what fall was doing to all the leaves and fruit I’d grown and Bucky is getting ready for winter, I was hoping for a break.” He shrugged. 

“Sure, sure,” Sam said, “you wanna come in?”

Steve stuffed his hands in his pockets. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

“Not at all,” Sam said, leaning his rake against the tree trunk, “Come on, I think I’ve got everything to make you some of my famous hot cocoa.”

Steve grinned and followed Sam to the house. “I didn’t realise your leaves fall with the season.”

Sam flexed his wings, nothing but bare branches now. “Yeah well,” Sam said, “it’s what leaves do.” 

“They’re really beautiful,” he said, “you need to let me draw them like this.”

Sam a look at him over his shoulder as he was heating the milk. “Sure,” he said, amused, “cocoa first though.”

“Cocoa first,” Steve agreed. 

***

“Sit still, will you?” Steve said, his notepad shifting in his grip.

Sam adjusted his position one last time before going still again. Steve had him sitting backwards on a chair, shirtless to leave his branches bare.

“And what happens in summer?” Steve said, as if continuing a conversation. 

Sam rolled his eyes. “What do you think happens?”

“Is there fruit?” Steve asked, the sound of the pencil a steady hum. 

Sam laughed. “Nah man that's weird.”

Steve laughed with him. “Yes, because it's been normal so far,” he said, good naturedly, “you meet people with branch-like wings all the time.”

“Maybe you don’t,” Sam said, “but I know plenty.”

Steve didn’t reply for a while, probably too focused on the picture. Sam’s seen him do it before, zone out while drawing.

“There's flowers in early spring,” he said, almost like a confession.

Steve didn’t reply but the sound of the pencil paused for a long moment and Sam's shoulders hunched. 

“You're going to do this again, aren't you?” he asked.

“I'm thinking of making it a series,” Steve said, sounding smug. The bastard. 

Sam took a deep breath and let out a long sigh.

“Sit still,” Steve said again, “I'm nearly done.”

***

Later that day, when Steve is asleep in the spare bedroom, Natasha pulled Sam close. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” she asked him, “The three of us, winter without summer-”

“It’ll be fine,” he assured her, “he wants to be here, and we’re still well away from summer, Bucky will understand.” She still looked doubtful so he kissed her softly on the lips. “Winter is coming, he’ll have other things on his mind.”

“You don't know him like I do,” she said, “you only come in after he’s gone, I’ve met him, he can be unforgiving.”

“Natasha,” he said, “trust me.” He kissed her again, deeper this time, and she let the issue go. If anything, Steve knew what he was doing. 

***

“I _told_ you,” Natasha yelled to him over the howling wind, “I _told_ you this was a bad idea, why did you bring him home?”

“You’re the one that brought winter down on us,” Sam yelled, “you led him straight to our door.”

There was a crash and a tree collapsed outside. Their lawn was covered in snow, where moments ago it had been clear and grassy. 

They both looked up and turned to Steve, who had come rushing in. “It’s Bucky,” he said, “he’s coming.”

“Basement,” Natasha ordered, “Now.”

“I don’t-” Steve started.

“Don’t argue,” she said, “it’s fortified, insulated, you’ll be safe there.”

Sam gently took Steve’s wrist and led him down the stairs.

Sam closed the door just as Natasha came running down, closing the upstairs door behind her. There was a crash and he thought it might be their windows blowing in from the storm. 

Steve banged on the door and she leaned against it. “Everything is fine,” she yelled over the raging storm.

“He’s getting closer,” Sam said to her, quietly, so Steve couldn’t hear. He leaned back against the door too as Steve banged against it again, shaking it on its hinges. 

“Let me out,” Steve said, “it’s too dangerous, you don't have to do this.”

“Shut up Steve,” Natasha snapped, but before she could continue the upstairs door blew in. 

“We’re cornered in here,” Steve shouted, banging against the door again, light shining from under the door. They both knew if he wanted to get out they wouldn't be able to stop him. This was him being polite. 

“He’s right,” Sam said, “the storm is getting worse, he has to be close, we won’t be able to hold him off ourselves, we need to get out of here.”

“Just let me out,” Steve said again, “I can stop him.”

They looked at each other and seemed to come to the same conclusion. 

“You get him out,” Natasha said, “I’ll make sure the coast is clear.”

On an impulse he pulled her close and kissed her. “Be careful,” he said. 

She nodded and ran up the stairs. He unlocked the door and followed Steve up the stairs. The whole house was covered in snow. Everything from the kitchen table to the couch had almost a foot of snow on it. Natasha handed him a jacket and scarves and they wrapped up as well as they could.

“I’ll go first,” Steve said, and stepped forward, barefoot. The snow melted into pools around his feet and made a pathway for them.

Natasha took Sam’s hand and they followed after him. Outside was pure white. The fog was so thick that if Steve was more than a three feet away he would disappear. 

They walked for what felt like hours, until white turned grey and eventually darkness enveloped them.

“We have to stop,” Sam said, his breath clouding around his face, ice crystallized around his beard, “I have to stop, I can’t-”

He felt his legs finally give out and he fell to the ground, the snow crunching under his hands.

“We can’t stop,” Steve said urgently, turning to Natasha, “he’s so close, you’re not safe here.”

“It’s too late.”

They look up and he’s there, the fog clearing around him. The eye of the storm. 

“Don’t do this, Bucky” Steve said, stepping forward, putting himself between them and Bucky. “Don't hurt them, they didn’t do anything.”

“They took you away,” Bucky said. His body was rigid, his hair long and ragged, covering his face.

“They didn’t,” Steve replied. 

“There has to be a balance, summer and winter,” Bucky said, his eyes cold, looking at Steve through his lashes.

“What about spring and fall?” Steve said, paused as he steeled himself for the fall out, “I love them.”

Bucky’s expression only flickered. 

“I love you, too,” Steve continued, “please, Buck.” He took a step forward, slowly. “The forest can’t take this much winter, you have to stop.”

He took another step, and another. 

“You have to come back,” Bucky said, “I can’t be alone.”

“Oh Bucky,” Steve said, “you’re not alone.” He was close enough to touch, so he reached out and brushed his fingertips over Bucky’s cheek. 

Bucky sighed and leaned into the touch. “Steve?”

“Remember?” 

Bucky’s eyes fluttered closed, so Steve leaned in and kissed him softly. There was a flash of lightning and they were both gone. 

Natasha and Sam looked between each other. “Do you think he’s okay?” Sam asked her.

“I think he can take care of himself,” she said, then held out a hand, “come on, let’s go home. You’re going to have your work cut out for you.”

He pushed himself up with her help and they started their journey back, leaning on each other for support. It was easier going now that the storm wasn't raging, and most of the snow was melted by the time they made it back.

They straightened up their house as much as possible. They righted chairs and swept out the broken glass, making sure everything was dry before collapsing into their bed. 

By the time they woke up, Sam’s leaves were starting to grow back, small and tightly furled. Spring must follow winter, and hopefully, summer will follow after. 

***

Weeks pass. Sam does all he could, encourages the leaves to grow, and the flowers to bloom. The sun works in his favour, and when it’s time for summer, he is almost ready. 

The first day of the season dawns dark and stormy. It’s warm and too humid and Sam loses hope. Then the knock on the door comes. 

He tries not to bounce too much as he gets out of bed, so as not to wake Natasha, but he’s suddenly excited. He runs out and pulls the door open to find Steve and he grins, throwing himself into a hug, before noticing Bucky standing behind him. 

He schools his features into a polite smile and pulls away.

“Sam,” Steve says warningly. 

“So this is you,” he says, waving a finger up and around at the storm building above them.

Bucky holds onto his left elbow with his right hand and nods. 

“Can we come in,” Steve asks.

“Of course, of course,” Sam replies, “let me just, I’ll be right back, make yourself at home.”

He rushes back inside and shakes Natasha awake. “He’s here,” he says, “and he brought Bucky, get up!”

She turns away from him and waves a hand at him. “I’ll be there in a second.”

He rolls his eyes and walks out again to find Steve and Bucky sitting at the kitchen table. Steve has his hands out, reaching for Bucky but Bucky’s hands are in his lap, under the table.

“We’re just waking up,” he tells them, “have you guys had breakfast yet? Coffee?” 

Bucky shakes his head but Steve smiles at Sam. “Coffee would be nice.”

Sam turns the coffee machine on and starts on breakfast- pancakes, because he knows they’re Natasha’s favourite, and they could both use something good for what today might potentially turn to. 

He works in silence, Steve sipping at his coffee and Bucky looking like he might flee any minute now. 

When Natasha walks out, she looks- well Sam is biased. She treads softly over to him, kisses him on the cheek good morning, and pours herself a cup of coffee before finally sitting at the table with Steve and Bucky. 

Sam places the full plate of pancakes and sits down on the table with them. He pulls a couple into his own plate, and digs in. Natasha rolls her eyes and then does the same, using a knife and fork to calmly cut her pancakes.

“Bucky has something to tell you,” Steve finally says.

Bucky glares at him then glances at them before going back to the tabletop. 

Sam finally took pity on him. “Don’t worry about it,” he says, and it’s his turn to be glared at, by Natasha this time.

“Look, he’s obviously sorry, he can’t even look at us,” he said, “and we got over it, the forest is thriving again, summer is here, literally, at our table, it’s okay.”

“Wasn’t there something else you’d like to say to him then?” Natasha asks..

“No,” Sam says emphatically, “Steve is a grown spirit, he goes where he wants, and that’s something they need to figure out between them.”

“We’ve already talked about it,” Steve says quietly, “it’s sorted.”

Sam shrugs. “So that’s it?” he asks, “We’re all good?”

“All good,” Steve says. 

“Good,” he says, “now have some pancakes, before they get cold.”

***

Steve and Sam go out so that Sam can pass the forest to Steve for the season. Bucky stays with Natasha. 

It’s awkward at first. Natasha gives off a silence that demands to be filled, but Bucky resists. He’s said everything he wanted to when he talked with Steve. 

Finally, Natasha breaks the silence. “What happened to you?”

He looks at her and tries not to glare. “Winter,” he says, “winter took over.”

“Aren’t you supposed to control it?” she asks, “like we control-”

“No,” he interrupts, “we facilitate, we help and support, but we don't control. Fall will happen whether you are there to help it along or not. Winter will always come, we just have to make sure it happens right.”

“And it didn’t,” she says.

“It didn’t,” he agrees, and sighs, “This is why I need Steve, he’s my counter balance, when he’s there the darkness can’t take over. I went home and he wasn't there. I waited, and waited and then I stopped waiting.”

“We are sorry, for what it’s worth,” she says, leaning in and taking hold of his hand, “I tried to warn Sam but…” she trails off. 

“Spring,” he says, rolling his eyes. 

“Exactly,” she says, gently squeezing his fingers, “he is who he is, just like Steve, just like you.”

He contemplates that for a while, turns it over in his head. “I’m sorry too,” he says, “I didn't get a chance to say it before. Steve said- your house-” he waves a hand vaguely around them. “I’m glad you put it back together.”

“That’s the thing about the seasons,” she says “they always come back around.”

***

Steve and Sam didn't return until late into the night, bringing with them a cool breeze and sun-warmed skin. 

Bucky fell asleep with his head in Natasha’s lap while waiting for them. She fell asleep sitting up, her hand tangled in his hair. 

Steve can't hold back the fond smile. “We should move them,” he says, “we can take the guest bedroom, if that’s alright with you, I don't think we can get home tonight.”

“You think we can separate them?” Sam whispers. 

Steve looks at him then kneels down beside the sleeping couple. He puts a hand on Bucky’s shoulder and shakes him slightly. “Hey Buck,” he says, “time to go to bed.”

Bucky mumbles and shifts, rubbing at his eyes. “‘Kay.”

Steve nods and helps Bucky up. Natasha wakes up all at once and watches Bucky walk away. Her displeasure is evident, though if it’s at being woken, for Bucky leaving or for their lateness, it was hard to tell. Steve guesses it’s a combination of all three. 

He puts an arm under Bucky’s shoulders and directs him to the bedrooms. “Tasha,” Bucky mumbles.

“What?” Steve asks. 

“Where’s Tasha,” he says, and turns around, holding a hand out to her. 

She pushes herself up, tangles her fingers in Sam’s hand and then takes Bucky’s outstretched one. They all shuffle into the bedroom and Bucky is the first to collapse into the bed. Natasha follows, lying so she’s facing him, and Steve slides in behind him. 

Sam hesitates a moment, but Natasha sits up and pulls him in behind her, curling his arm around her waist.

“So this is it now?” he mutters into her neck, behind her ear. 

“This is it,” she whispers, already drifting off, “what do you think?”

“I think it might just work.”


End file.
